


The Things We Give Up

by MaureenBell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Canon-Typical Violence, Dean Winchester Has a Wing Kink, Homophobic Language, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Past Underage, Powered-Down Cas, The Angles Are Up To Something
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2020-07-11 22:48:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19935790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaureenBell/pseuds/MaureenBell
Summary: After a hunt gone wrong, Sam, Dean, and Castiel end up at a shitty motel in Kanas. The angles are causing problems and Cas is powered down. Now Dean has to deal with an emotional angle as he powers back up, and all of the human pit falls that come with it.OR: The time Cas was basically human and Dean's internalized trauma make things extra complicated.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, welcome to my first fic (2.0). It's a mess, and will always be a mess! I think i know where im going but as of right now this story has little to no trajectory but it's doing its best. Honestly I had an idea for porn with out plot and it got away from me. You may notice there is no porn in this chapter (or the next few but it is coming i promise) - do you see how it got away from me? Tags will be added as I go - but if there is anything that anyone thinks needs to be tagged let me know. Extra warnings will be posted in the end notes so please check those because this original PwP has turned into a bit of an Angst trip. 
> 
> Shout out to my darling friend [whovianlord](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whovianlord) for both betaing and encouraging this life choice. 
> 
> I have no schedule for this story - its gonna come when it comes. I will try and post once ever two (2) months but I make no promises to commit to that (Hi, hello! I'm a garbage person)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check end notes for warnings

Dean had never been more annoyed with the inconsistent sizing of beds. Mattresses are a marketable product and should at least have some sort of regulations, for consistency’s sake. Looking at the mattress in front of him, Dean knew this clearly wasn’t the case because he would sell his soul to Crowley and serve another 40 years in the pit before he called this child sized bed a king!

_ The lady at the front desk did say king, right? Yeah, she must have! How else did we agree to one room with one bed? _

Years of sharing a motel room together had taught the Winchester brothers a lot of things about each other. For one, Sam was only meticulously, anally clean when he was under high stress – so an overly clean motel room meant it was best to stay quiet and let the man work. For another, Dean was high maintenance about bathrooms and while a room without a tub wasn’t the end of the world, he would bitch about bad water pressure until they got out of there. However, most importantly, the number one rule for any motel room: two beds were required.

They had only broken this rule a handful of times. One of those times was trying to throw some Feds off their trail by changing up their patterns, but every other time had been because of some very specific circumstances; usually that they were in the middle of nowhere with no gas, no extra money for a second room, and it was too cold to sleep in Baby. This time however, they were in a decently sized town, Baby was gassed up and ready to go, Dean had a bunch of free space across multiple credit cards, and it was a beautiful Kansas day in the middle of July. In any case, how they ended up here Dean honestly had no idea, but he did know they had signed a form and paid a bill, so reluctantly he stepped over the threshold.

A quick glance around the room told him everything he needed to know.

“This is going to be a fucking disaster.”

“Hey man,” Sam griped from behind him, “you’re the one who wouldn’t let me drive.”

Sam pushed past Dean into the room. He tossed his duffle bag on the floor with a loud thud.

“Yeah well, once you let a doc check out your head…” Dean started.

“I told you, I’m fine. I just needed some sleep. That’s why we stopped at Bobby’s. I’ve been good to drive all day.”

“Do you really think I would risk Baby like that?”

Baby was Dean’s pride and joy. A pristine 1967 Chevy Impala, passed down from their father, that shined brighter than the sun on a good day. Dean had rebuilt her from the ground up more times than he could count, but that didn’t mean he liked the idea of putting her in high risk situations. Besides, only a few things came before Baby on Dean’s list of things that matter; two of which would have been in the car if Sam had passed out behind the wheel. He didn’t want to risk Baby, but he refused to risk Sam or Cas.

“Whatever.” Sam rolled his eyes and marched further into the room. As he reached the foot of the bed, he dropped down heavily, making the entire frame rattle. Dean couldn’t help but chuckle as Sam’s eyes went wide, his trust in the piece of furniture clearly dwindling. Following his little brother’s lead, Dean also moved a little further into the room.

It wasn’t a terrible hotel room, Dean could definitely think of a few that were much worse than this, but it was tiny. Everything sat low to the ground with most surfaces coming no higher than Dean’s hip. There was maybe two feet between the foot of the bed and the long dresser/TV stand combo that stood against the opposite wall. Everything seemed to be proportionally sized to the room, which made sense, but unfortunately Dean was a large man and Sam was even larger. Not to mention, Cas was going to be hanging out all night probably doing research or meditating.  _ Or whatever it is he does while we sleep… _

Speaking of Cas, Dean hadn’t heard him enter the room yet. With a quick glance over his shoulder, Dean spotted him standing in the doorway, eyes locked on the bed.

“You gonna stand there all night?” Dean chirped.

Cas’s eyes immediately moved from the bed to Dean’s face. He looked like he had just been caught with his hand down his pants. Dean was taken aback by how scared and ashamed he looked, but in the flash of an instant, Cas’s face slipped back into its normal stoic lines as if nothing had happened.

Cas deliberately stepped over the threshold but, unlike the brothers, didn't venture much deeper into the room. Instead he sidestepped slightly and placed his nearly empty duffle bag on the skinny table that sat in front of the large window next to the door. He stood there for a moment, eyes scanning over the room, before dropping down in one of the mismatched wire-frame chairs. He didn’t look at the bed again.

Dean watched as Cas got settled. Every one of his ‘Big Brother Instincts’ were telling him something was wrong. But before he could ask, Sam let out a huff of air.

“No, you’re right. This sucks.”

Dean whipped his head around to find Sam sitting in exactly the same spot holding an old TV remote, pushing every button one after the other. Following the line from Sam’s arm, Dean looked at the TV sitting directly in front of the bed. The screen was dark and nothing Sam did seemed to change that.

“Awesome. So, I guess no Saturday morning cartoons then.”

With that, Dean made his way towards the bed. He dropped down next to Sam and under their combined weight the head of the bed lifted off the ground. Both brothers shot to their feet. Without them sitting on it, the frame crashed on the floor. The entire bed shook for much longer then was acceptable.

“It appears, it can only handle you one at a time.”

Cas had risen from his chair when the bed frame tilted and was now standing at Dean’s shoulder.

“That’s what she….” Dean started with a smirk, but as he turned his head to look at Cas, he found those piercing blue eyes much closer than he expected. Cas’s brow was furrowed as he tilted his head to the side, clearly not understanding the joke. “…ah, never mind.”

Dean and Cas stood there, staring at each other for a moment. Or it felt like a moment but, based on how Sam cleared his throat, it might have been longer.

“All jokes and double entendres aside, Cas is right. Both of us can’t sleep in this bed.”

In a clear attempt to lay claim, Dean tossed his duffle bag on the bed. It trembled even under the light weight of four days worth of clothes and a couple of handguns.

“Why do you get it?” Sam called out, looking at Dean in disbelief that he would be so bold.

“Because I slept on the couch at Bobby’s”

“You always sleep on the couch at Bobby’s!”

“Yeah! Which is why I get the bed here!”

“Come on, Dean.” There was a slight pause as Sam looked for something to gain the upper hand. “My head still hurts.”

Memories from their most recent hunt flashed in Dean’s mind. Sam getting flung around a room. Sam being pushed down on a table. Sam’s eye drifting out of focus after a particularly hard hit. Dean sighed and shoved his hand in his back pocket. He knew Sam had taken a beating on their last hunt.  _ Hell, that’s why we stopped at Bobby’s in the first place _ . Still, he was exhausted and since they had made it the first 24 hours post-concussion without Sam losing consciousness or dying in his sleep, Dean felt the boy would be alright on his own. So, he pulled out his wallet and tossed it at Sam.

“Then get a second room, Sammy!”

Sam rolled his eyes as he snatched the wallet from the air.

“Thanks, jerk.”

“Bitch.”

With a small chuckle, Sam turned and walked out of the room.

Dean turned to rummage through his bag and as the door latched, he heard Cas shift his weight quietly behind him. There was only a moment’s hesitation before his Brotherly Instincts got the better of him.

“How ya doing, Cas?”

“I’m fine, Dean.”

Dean still had his back to Cas, but he could hear the lie. He could hear it in his voice, but also in the way the floorboards creaked as Cas shifted his weight back and forth. He was fidgeting.  _ Angels don’t fidget. They’re practically made of stone. _

“Come on, man. You’ve been quiet all day.”

When Cas didn’t respond, Dean looked behind him. He had half expected Cas to have flown off somewhere, but the man was standing there looking down at his feet.

“I said I’m fine.”

The words came out of Cas almost like a growl; low and aggressive, but there was something about it that made it sound like a wounded animal backed into a corner, rather than a fearsome beast. Dean knew Cas was capable of the latter.

“Cas.”

“Dean, I don’t want to talk about it! Nor do I think I need to. You and your brother avoid emotional confrontation, why can’t I do the same?”

Dean fully turned to face Cas and perched on the edge of the mattress.

“We’re just worried, man. You haven’t really said anything since Warner and then you flew off to go God-knows-where right when we got to Boddy’s. Then you appeared in the back of Baby this morning...” Dean signed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m just worried.”

“Well don’t be.” Cas was still looking down at his feet, his pose looking much more like a moody child than that of an immortal, divine being.

“You know that’s not how this works, Cas.”

“I can handle it myself.”

“Well, maybe if you tell me what needs to be handled, then maybe we can help.”

“I don’t need a pair of humans fretting over me!” Cas’s head shot up. He stared Dean down with such intensity, Dean was amazed he wasn’t struck down on the spot. “Do you even know what’s happening out there? Do you have the slightest idea, in your tiny mind, what you and your brother walked in on? What it means? What it will cost? How much it has cost already?”

He was talking about their last hunt. The hunt Sam and Dean had severely misjudged.  _ But all signs had pointed to vamps’ nest. It wasn’t our fault that Angels decided to act out of character.  _ News reports had 10 or so people going missing and their bodies being found – drained of blood – a few days later on the outskirts of town. No burned-out eyes. No reports of drastic personality changes followed by wandering off into the night. Nothing to suggest angelic involvement at all. And yet, Sam and Dean had marched right into a group of angels, killing people and collecting their blood, with nothing more than machetes and a couple of vials of dead man’s blood.

“You’re right, Cas. I couldn’t tell you what I saw or what that was. So, would you care to enlighten me? Isn’t that what angels are all about? Enlightenment?” Dean had been aiming for humor, but he honestly had no idea what was happening and it was putting him on edge. Based on what came out of Cas’s mouth next, he missed humor by a long shot.

“I’m not here to perch on your shoulder!” Cas eyes flickered with grace as rage raced through him. “I can’t just hold your hand through all of the big stuff and hope that one day your tiny monkey brain will catch up! You and your brother charge into situations – halfcocked – and then when you get in over your heads you call for help! You call me! Because I’m the strongest weapon in your arsenal! I’m your ‘Ace in the Hole’, right? Well maybe I don’t want that! Maybe I don’t want to be used as a last resort! Maybe I don’t want to fight your battles! Especially when those battles are against my own kind. My family! Have you ever considered what might have happened if I hadn’t gotten there in time? Or if I didn’t have enough power to blast through all of the warding on that horrible place? Do you know how much grace that cost me?”

At some point during the shouting Cas had marched right up to Dean, towering over him as he sat on the bed. Dean didn’t dare move. He had opened a floodgate and all he could do was hold on and wait for it to stop.

“I’m lucky I still have my wings! I’m lucky that spell didn’t disintegrate me like it did my brothers and sister!”

Cas was trembling all over, and being this close, Dean could see the muscles in his face twitching.

“I don’t want this, Dean! I don’t want to feel tired! Or weak! I don’t want to have to eat or sleep or pee again! I don’t want to sit in the back of that stupid car…” He flung his arm back to point out the window, making Dean jump slightly “... and listen to the two of you talking like nothing is wrong! Like that was any old hunt! Like I didn’t murder my family in the most painful way I can imagine! Like I didn’t rip my grace apart to get you out of there alive! Like everything is fine! Like I’m fine!”

As if on cue, the ethereal blue light in Cas’s eyes flickered. It had been happening the entire time Cas had been talking, but it was only now that Dean noticed. Cas’s chest was heaving and his final words seemed to ring out in the silence that followed them. There were beads of sweat collecting in his hairline and on his upper lip. And that’s when Dean finally put it together: that last burst of magic Cas had done on the hunt – the thing that saved all of their lives – had drained him. Cas was practically human. Dean scanned more of Cas’s form looking for any more obvious signs of mortality that he had missed. They stood in silence, staring at each other, until Cas huffed in Dean’s face and stepped back.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He retreated backwards, as if putting more space between them would somehow stop Dean from putting it all together.

“Like what?” Dean was having a hard time tearing his eyes away from the angel. What had so recently been twisted with rage, was now shy – almost meek. What were normally the strong stoic lines of Cas’s face – more akin to that of a marble statue then an almost middle-aged man – were now soft and wary.

There was a long moment of silence before Cas answered Dean’s question.

“Like I’m broken.”

Dean almost couldn’t handle how sad Cas looked. Like a lost child at the mall, but with a five o’clock shadow.

“I don’t think you’re broken, Cas.”

Cas huffed a laugh and dropped back down into his previously claimed chair. His fingers fiddled with the edge of his jacket as he mumbled something that sounded like “baby in a trench coat”.

“Seriously Cas, you saved us back there. You kicked ass like you always do. It was… it was awesome. And that lightshow at the end! That was just…” Dean waved his arms around to try and convey how cool it was, but Cas just pursed his lips tightly. “All I’m saying is we couldn’t have gotten out of there without you. So, if you need a couple of days to get back up to your fighting weight, then we can take a couple of days.”

At that, Cas’s mouth relaxed. In fact, his entire body relaxed. He looked as if someone had just lifted the weight of the world off his shoulders. His brows were still pinched together, but the rest of him looked soft as if being given permission to rest was the last thing he needed before he could completely pass out. Dean could see the physical effort it took for the angel to lift his eyes towards Dean’s again. Cas peeked through his eye lashes as a small smile tugged up the outer corners of his lips.

Warmth spread through Dean like wildfire. His chest seemed to hum with affection for that small smile. Inexplicable, Dean suddenly felt smitten. Well not inexplicably, there was an obvious explanation, but Dean didn’t have the time or the energy to unpack that right now. So, he pushed the feeling away and tried to focus. Focus on his friend, sitting right in front of him, that needed a little extra love and support. His friend who needed a friend. His friend who had gorgeous blue eyes and soft, kissable lips and –  _ focus, Winchester! _

Clearing his throat in a vain attempt to clear his mind, Dean continued.

“Besides, we have no new intel on the God Squad and nothing on the scanner about things that go bump in the night. So, you should get some rest.”

Dean tried to casually toss a look at the bed behind him – the bed he had already claimed for himself, but he wasn’t going to think about that just now.

“But where are you going to sleep?”

“Don’t worry about me, worst case I’ll go sleep in my Baby.”

Confidently, Dean stepped forward and grabbed Cas’s duffle from the table and tossed it on the bed next to his own. He could feel Cas wanting to protest, but simply turned his back on him, which seemed to end the discussion before it even began. Dean heard a heavy sigh behind him, and then shuffling, followed by the sound of a full length trench coat being removed and placed on the back of a chair.

With only a slightly victorious smile, Dean quipped over his shoulder,

“And hey! Baby is not stupid.”

Cas’s eyes flashed in Dean’s direction as he marched past him towards his relocated duffle bag. All anger and sadness visible over the last ten minutes had been replaced with something softer – fondness maybe – and Dean felt a tightness release in his chest. A tightness he hadn’t noticed until it was gone. As he noticed this, he felt a tension in the back of his neck. A prickle he recognized all too well.  _ Another thing to unpack later! _

Just then his phone beeped in his pocket.

Fishing it out, Dean dropped his gaze to the screen. What greeted him was a paragraph-sized list of updates from Bobby. _ Ah! A distraction. _ The list seemed to be compiled of any and all possibly supernatural occurrences across the county.  _ Jesus, Bobby. I know I said ‘cast a wide net’ but this is insane. _ Maine had reports of a shape shifting clown, Georgia had a few reports of dead people walking around, and Washington D.C. had nothing but demonic omens. There were tons of haunted buildings and possible vamp nests sprinkled throughout the Midwest, and mysterious deaths, overly bloody animal attacks, and missing persons reports seemed to stretch the entire continent.  _ I’m almost positive Bobby has a color-coded map of this somewhere in his home that is impossible to read. _

Clicking his tongue, Dean sat down on the bed again. He scanned over the list: noting the ones that were with-in a couple days drive, the ones that could be easily delegated to other hunters, and the ones that seemed to have a growing death count. Nothing nearby needed to be dealt with right away – a couple of hauntings and two-week-old report of possible were-activity – so Dean forwarded some higher priority items to hunters that he knew and trusted. He read through the list again, now that all urgent cases had been appropriately dealt with and took his time reading through each one. He even went as far to do a little extra research on a couple. Dean marked up the list and forwarded it to Sam.  _ Never hurts to have a few eyes check it out – especially with angels switching up the rule books. _

Satisfied that he understood everything he just read and that he had done his due diligence, Dean lifted himself off the bed. He slid his phone in his back pocket, turning to pull his duffle bag towards him and froze.

Cas was standing shirtless on the other side of the bed, having just slipped his button-up so casually of his shoulders. His arms stretched out behind him made his chest flex, pulling his skin tight over lean muscle. Dean could feel his eyes growing wide as he took in the male form before him.  _ Unnatural.  _ Cas’s chest was tan, far more tan than it should be considering he never seemed to take his trench coat off. His skin was flawless, smoothly running over defined collar bone and toned pecs. There were no marks on his skin – save for a small freckle over his right nipple; no scars, no bruise. Nothing to suggest anything terrible had ever happened to that chest. Dean thought of all of the different cuts and scrapes that should have left a mark, and only felt a small ping of guilt when he thought that a few battle scars might have been a little bit sexy on Cas’s almost too perfect chest.  _ Disgusting. _

Cas’s shoulders relaxed as he freed his hands free from the cuffs of his shirt. They slumped forward, clearly worn out from a long day of being human but still broad and impressive; well defined muscles casting soft shadows in the horrible lighting of the motel room. The lines of his shoulders smoothly sloped down to strong, equally unfairly tanned arms.  _ Perverts. _ Dean’s eyes slid down their length, taking in all of the soft bends and dips, but came to a harsh stop when he reached Cas’s forearms.

The right side was flawless, much like Cas’s chest, but the left sported a large red slash that ran almost from elbow to wrist. It looked irritated and sore. Dean could see the muscles and tendons around it respond to the slightest movement Cas made. It stood out harshly, bright red and painful, against the rest of Cas’s porcelain like skin. Dean felt a deeper pang of guilt for thinking a marked-up Cas would be sexy.  _ Because that’s not… that’s upsetting.  _ Dean’s eyes stayed locked on Cas’s forearm, tracking the movements without fully seeing what Cas was doing. It wasn’t until a hand slipped past the waistband of pants that Dean was able to yank his attention back to the surface.

“Jesus, Cas!”

Dean snapped his eyes shut and he smacked both of his hands over his face for good measure. He had been standing there, ogling his friend, for who knows how long.  _ You’re a freak! A horrible, perverted, freak! No son of mine is going to grow up into a faggot.  _ The voice of John Winchester rung out in Dean’s mind. The voice that had ruined every fantasy he had ever had. The voice that had grown quieter and quieter over the years, but still interjected choice words in Dean’s moments of weakness.

Dean momentarily felt paralyzed with fear, then quickly turned his back on Cas. He made a mad dash for the door. He kept his hands over his face and all but tripped over the table before running full speed into the wall.  _ Disgusting perverts! Running around with no goddamn decency!  _ Trying to escape the room before he had a full-blown PTSD-flashback, Dean lowered one hand away from his face and began groping the wall for the door frame. He could feel Cas’s eyes on him. He didn’t want to feel the heat of being watched, couldn’t handle the idea being seen so vulnerable – despite the fact that Cas had just been in a similarly vulnerable position earlier. All rational thought had been replaced with panic and the select words John had saved for any ‘sexual deviant’ that crossed their path. _ Goddamn cocksuckers, spreading disease and ruining the fucking neighborhood.  _ Once Dean’s hand closed around the cool metal of the doorknob, he yanked it open – with much more force then was completely necessary – and stumbled out of the room.

The door slammed loudly behind him, shaking the glass in the window. As the echo of the door subsided, so did the volume of derogatory slurs. Dean opened his eyes again.  _ What the hell was that all about!?  _ He dragged a hand over his face and leaned his body against the cool surface of the door. He stared up at the orange light that sat directly above their room number, trying to calm down his breathing. As his retinas started to sting, he closed his eyes again and pushed forward, walking the few steps across the hall to the banister that looked out over the parking lot. He could feel the sweat cooling on the back of his neck as a slight breeze rushed past him. Looking down into the parking lots, Dean could make out lights reflecting on the familiar curves of Baby parked directly below. He focused his attention on her until his mind went quiet.

John Winchester had always been a hard-headed man. And hunting supernatural creatures did not change that. He had firm beliefs, like a son should never question his father and a man should only love a woman. Dean knew he was from a different time, a different era, but it definitely made it hard to deal with his own sexual identity when his old man referred to anyone less then 100% straight as “just as big of a monster as the things they hunt”.

What sucked that most was that Dean had known on some level that he was less than straight for a good portion of his life. He was a good-looking guy and had been hit on by older men more times than he could count. He always found it flattering, if not a little bit creepy and while he didn’t usually take any of them up on their offer, he still knew in his gut it wasn’t because he wasn’t attracted to men. It was because he wasn’t attracted to those men. However, there were times when Dean took advantage of these flirtations to get a little extra spending money for him and Sam when they had been left alone for a little too long. One of those times resulted in a very beaten up, and also very drunk, John stumbling around the corner of a motel to find his oldest son on his knees in front of a stranger.

Dean had never been so thoroughly worked over in his life and that was saying something as John was never exactly a gentle parent. This particular round though, it left more than psychical marks. Dean could still hear every word his old man uttered that night. Both the ones directed at him and at gay men in general. Those words still ran through his head anytime he even looked at another man in a sexual way. But after John died, his voice had gotten quieter in Dean’s head.  _ Besides,  _ Dean often told himself,  _ Dad said, ‘no Winchester would ever be gay!’ and he wasn’t completely wrong, because I’m not All The Way Gay.  _ Dean chuckled at his own little loophole, which seemed to be doing the trick of calming him down. But it was safe to say that Dean wasn’t exactly ‘out’.

When there was finally silence in his head, Dean let his eyes drag across the darkness in front of him until the landed on the tall figure that could only be his brother, making its way up the main staircase in the middle of the motel.

“Alright, I got us a second room.”

Sam’s booming voice cut through the still night around them. Sighing with a mixture of relief and frustration, Dean turned to face his brother. He was still shaken from the sudden onslaught of homophobic slurs that had flooded his mind, in the only too familiar voice of his father. He had seriously thought he was past this. Hell, he had managed to have a semi legitimate relationship with Ash.  _ But then again, we didn’t tell anyone, and the sex was always more difficult then it needed to be, and oh yeah! He died!  _ Leaning back on the banister, Dean watched as Sam marched confidently up to the door that stood directly next to their original motel room. He turned the key, pressing his shoulder firmly against it, and let the door swing inward.

“Oh, come on…” Sam groaned as his entire body seemed to curve in on itself in defeat. Dean walked up behind him and peering around his baby brother, looked into the room. It was about the same size as the other one with pretty much all of the same fixtures – but instead of a misnamed king-sized bed, a single bed sat against the wall.  _ What is the deal with the beds in this town? _

Sam walked into the room, with not nearly as much confidence as he had opened the door and lightly placed his bag on the bed. Dean stood in the doorway, thinking through all of their options. The most obvious option was to let Sam take this room, Cas take the first room, and Dean would sleep in Baby. And as much as Dean didn’t have an issue with that option, he also didn’t really want to give up a bed. The option that required the most amount of work, would be to move Cas into this room, and then one of the Winchesters would take the first bed, and the other would sleep in Baby. But again, Dean knew he would end up in the car, and he really wanted a mattress! The other option was to share a bed. This room was obviously too small to share, so the other room was the only logical option. With a deep sign, Dean accepted that he wasn’t going to get a good night’s sleep.

“Alright, let’s go get Cas. He can have this room and we’ll figure out how to share the bigger bed…”

“Wait, why does Cas need a bed?”

“Oh! Umm…”  _ Shit. _

Dean rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Cas had been really upset earlier, and seeing as he hadn’t mentioned his power level issue before he fell apart, it was possible he didn’t want anyone to know. Maybe not even Sam.

“That sigil, or spell, or whatever. That Cas did. It umm…”  _ Screw it! Sam needs to know!  _ “He’s tapped out man, basically human. He needs some sleep.” 

Sam looked at Dean like what he had just said was some kind of joke.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah man! Full on, freak out. With shouting and everything. He’s about as human as they come.”

“Damnit!” Sam hissed as he dragged his hand down his face. There was a moment of silence as his eyes darted back and forth, as if searching for a solution in the air in front of his face. Dean watched as his baby brother played out what he was positive were the same scenarios he had run through just moments earlier. And just like him, landed on the conclusion that the Winchesters take the big bed and Cas gets this room. “Alright. You’re right. Cas gets his own room.”

Without another word, Sam marched past Dean towards the original door, leaving Dean to stare into the now empty room. Dean figured Cas would fit in here much better than either Winchester would, but now they were facing the same problem they had before they got the second room. With a sigh, Dean followed his not-so-little brother.

When Dean reached the door, Sam already had the lock open and was pushing it in. What greeted them was Cas, laying on top of the covers, in his boxers, breathing softly into his pillow. Both duffle bags were still sitting on top of the bed, one of which was partially covered by Cas’s leg. It looked as if the man had fallen into bed, and then passed out as soon as he had gotten horizontal. One of his arms was pinned tightly underneath his chest, while the other hung carelessly off the side of the bed. Each breath caused his entire body to shift. His ribs moved in and out. His entire torso lifted and fell with each expansion of his chest. His back muscles flexed and relaxed. His whole body was more relaxed, and yet more engaged then Dean had ever seen it. The only part of him that didn’t seem to fidget and twitch, was the arm he was lying on top of.

Dean couldn’t stop his eyes from taking in all of Cas. The tingling was back on his neck and John’s voice was bouncing around his head again, but that didn’t stop him from openly staring at Cas’s boxer clad ass for longer than was socially acceptable.

“Aww, ain’t he a little angel.” Teasing was the only thing his mind could think to do to fill the silence.  _ Maybe Cas is right, maybe I do have a monkey’s brain. _ Shaking off the thought, Dean finally managed to pull his eyes away from the sleeping form on the bed. He looked at Sam’s face and saw the obvious worry etched into his forehead.

“Should we move him?” Sam whispered out of the side of his mouth, and Dean had an unpleasant flashback to the numerous nights the two of them stood around a drunk or beaten John Winchester.  _ Alright memory lane, that’s enough of you tonight!  _ Dean physically shook his head to refocus, which caught Sam’s attention.

“You alright?”

“Yeah I’m good. I just want to sleep, man.”

Dean was starting to feel the exhaustion creeping in behind his eyes. If he didn’t know where he was crashing soon, he was going to just pass out on the floor. Dean looked up at Sam and saw a face that he recognized immediately. Without any further delay, the two brothers banged through two rounds of Rock-Paper-Scissors – which Dean lost both of.

“Always with the Scissors, Dean.” Sam dropped his clenched fist on to0 of Dean’s split fingers for the second time. He smiled, victorious, and snagged his duffle bag from where he had dropped it on the floor when they had first arrived. Sam had won the ‘Private room’ fair and square but that didn’t mean Dean had to like it. Sam quickly and quietly made his way back to the other room.

“Have a fun night!” The door latched shut behind him, but not before he could flash a cocky smile and an all too knowing wink over his shoulder.

Dean had never felt more claustrophobic in his life. He spun around the room, in search of an exit that hadn’t just been marked with a giant “The World Knows Your Dirty Little Secret” sign.  _ Sam doesn’t know. He can’t know.  _ During the years of making money on the side, Dean had always been very careful about what Sam did and didn’t know. He was just a kid after all. And because John didn’t approve of the whole gay thing, that particular topic never came up. Or at least not directly. And definitely not in front of Sam. Dean could hear his breathing becoming more erratic and panicky again. He scanned through any moments that might have outed him, when a small sound snapped him out of his tailspin.

Cas was sitting up in the bed. He only looked half awake and his hair was a mess – dark tufts sticking up in all directions - but he was looking directly at Dean with as much focus as his sleep deprived brain to muster.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you coming to bed?”

“Umm… maybe… I need to – uh – shower first.”

Cas made a face and nodded very slowly, as if Dean hadn’t just said he needed to do a basic task, but instead had listed some daring and dangerous feet.

“Okay. Be safe…”

_ Yup, he either doesn’t understand what a shower is or he’s still asleep.  _ Dean ran his fingers through his hair. He did definitely need a shower; he could feel the grease holding the shape of his fingers once they pulled away. And after everything – the hunt, the drive, and all of the emotional turmoil this evening – a shower might be just what he needed to clear his mind. Making up his mind, Dean slowly started retreating to the safety of the bathroom.

“And Dean...?”

Dean stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder. Cas was still sitting up, but his eyes were fully closed. He was swaying slightly, as if he were mere seconds from falling flat on his back,

“… please don’t sleep in the car.”

And with that the angel slumped over. His body became still, and his breathing grew deep and even. The only thing Dean could do was stare at the now sleeping heap of an exhausted angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Homophobic sluts, past underage, described injury


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings posted in end notes

There is something about a tiny bathroom that makes a person reflect on all of their life choices. Dean stood, leaning against the bathroom door – which had to be forcibly shoved into place upon entering – doing just that. The last hour of his life had been way more stressful than he had ever intended. His nerves felt raw, his brain was buzzing, and he felt like he had just gone four rounds with a coked-up werewolf. All he wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. _Bed? More like laying awkwardly next to the hottest man you know, while your brain – doing an excellent dad impression – yells mean things at you all night._ Rubbing his hands down his face, Dean took a deep breath and looked around the room. 

The confined space was musty and cramped. There were no windows, except for a skinny rectangular strip of textured glass, about an inch away from the ceiling. The only lights were two shaded bulbs on either side of a mirror above the sink which cast a dingy light making the whole room look slightly yellow. There was a standing shower tucked into the corner that somehow managed to take up the majority of the room. It had all glass walls that were speckled with soap scum and one of which had a large crack along the bottom. Halfway up the back wall, an old showerhead jutted out into the enclosed space dripping water down to a rusted drain in the floor. Looking at it, Dean could tell that he would definitely need to duck down to get his hair wet. Letting out a deep sign, Dean pushed off the door and came to rest against the sink.

_How does the door fully open? There’s hardly any room in here!_

Dean looked over his shoulder at the door. It was old and dingy and looked slightly warped. The paint was cracked and peeling. About a third of the way up, a large crack stretched almost completely across it. _Ahh, it doesn’t. Well that makes sense._ Staying at that height, Dean’s eyes shifted to what was next to the door: the toilet. The front of the bowl was scraped and chipped. Dean was honestly kind of surprised there wasn’t water leaking from some of the deeper looking cracks. Despite the many battles, lost and won, between the toilet and the door, both seemed to be relatively clean and in working condition.

Looking forward again, Dean locked eyes with himself in the antiqued mirror over the sink. He watched as green irises contracted after every blink. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he spent some time reviewing his own face. His hair was standing up near the front, the grease holding the shape of his anxiety for all to see. There was dirt caught in his eyebrows and along his unshaven chin. He gently prodded at the bag under his eyes, his fingers dragged down his checks. He watched as the colour left and came back to these spots. Even through the dirt he could see his skin looked pale and tired, the contrast of his freckles, darkened from the Midwest sun, only made this more obvious. When the pads of his fingers finally dragged against day old scruff, Dean dropped his hand entirely. His skin looked no worse for wear, considering the complete clusterfuck that was their last hunt. There was a small scrape above his right eyebrow and although he couldn’t really see it, he could feel a bruise along his jawline. His face was actually in better shape than he had expected. After one last drag of his cheeks, Dean resigned himself to the shower.

But first, he needed a towel.

He spun around on the spot a couple of times, looking for a place a towel could be. There were no hooks on the walls, or shelves. The only basket in the room was a small plastic garbage can, and there was no room for cubbies or drawers. Perplexed, Dean yanked open the door – creating a horrible scraping sound – and poked his head back into the main room. The only thing he could see that might house a towel was the dresser off the foot of the bed.

Quietly, so as to not wake Cas, Dean tip toed his way across the room. He reached for the dresser and pulled open the top draw. In it was nothing but a bible and a pamphlet for pay-per-view porn. Rolling his eyes at the ridiculousness of it, Dean closed the drawer and checked the next one. The rest of the drawers were empty, except for the one at the very bottom. Inside were what looked like four towels and two pairs of slippers. Focusing on the task at hand, Dean grabbed a towel and walked back to the bathroom.

Once back inside, Dean shoved the door back into place. The loud scraping sound happened again. Frozen, like a kid sneaking downstairs to grab a snack, Dean listened to the silence of the room on the other side. There was a slight rustle of sheets, but nothing that indicated a grumpy Cas was now awake and patrolling the room for the source of that noise. However, Dean’s moment of relief was quickly ruined as he unrolled what he had fished out of the drawer. What he held in his hand was bigger than a hand towel or face cloth, but there was no way it was going to wrap completely around his hips. He stood there, towel hanging limply in his hand and hummed in frustration. He knew if he opened the door again Cas might wake up. But the risk of walking out of this bathroom in what would basically resemble a loincloth was not one he really wanted to take.

Flinging his towel down over the sink edge, Dean decided that loincloth was better than waking up an exhausted – and emotionally unstable – angel. He would risk getting caught if it meant putting more time between loud door screeches. So, with that, Dean started to strip off his clothes. He had been wearing the same shirt and jean combo for almost three days. Although he had been smart enough to change into a new pair of boxers at Bobby’s, his clothes were stale and still dirty from the hunt. Once Dean had gotten his legs free of denim – which was significantly more challenging in the small space than he was expecting it to be – he folded all his clothes into a neat pile, placed them on top of the closed toilet seat, and stepped into the shower.

Showers are Dean’s happy place – well, showers and Baby. There is nothing like getting into a hot shower and washing away all of the stress of the day. Be it the stress of a long hunt, the pain of sitting in the car for too long, or just needing to feel clean and normal again – there is nothing a good shower can’t fix. The problem with motels is you can’t always get a “good shower”.

Fortunately for Dean, this tiny bathroom seemed to have a diamond in the rough. Turning on the water, the shower head immediately burst into life. The hot water took a bit longer then he would have liked, but once it got there it was the perfect temperature, so he wasn’t going to complain. To Dean’s surprise, the water pressure coming from the leaking shower head in front of him was good and strong. It beat down firmly on his chest and shoulders, working out tension and relaxing his muscles. Under the flow of warm water, Dean scrubbed his skin clean. He used the tiny bottle of rose scented body wash and watched as the dirt, blood, and grime for the past few days collected around his feet before vanishing down the drain.

Using more travel-sized, rose scented products, Dean washed his hair. He took extra care to comb through it with his fingers to make sure there were no left-over clumps of gross hiding in it. He ducked under the shower head – _called it!_ – and rinsed the shampoo out. He opened his eyes and watched as soap bubbles and dirty water ran off his nose and chin, onto the floor.

With the strong current of warm water beating down on the back of his neck, Dean’s mind started to wander. The snippets of the past few days played like a worn-out movie in his head; jumping out of order and playing over top of each other.

The lumpy couch at Bobby’s.

Half-naked Cas.

Seeing signs of a vamps nest in the paper.

Cas sleeping on top of the covers.

Bright lights.

Sam sharpening machetes.

A beautiful room.

Cas screaming in his face.

Screaming.

Pain.

Laughter.

Cold empty laughter.

“Nakir, let’s not – what is the phrase? – play with our food?”

A rumble of laughter bounced all around him as he lay crumpled and beaten. Dean was face down, forehead pressed to cold hardwood floor, trying to get air back in his lungs. He could hear Sam groaning and shifting a few feet away, clearly trying to also gain some semblance of control over his body. The last few minutes had seen both brothers tossed carelessly around the room, with nothing more than the flick of a wrist.

_Angles. Where the hell did angels come from? This was supposed to be a Vamp nest!_

The sound of high heels clicking on the floor was the only warning Dean got before he was pulled to his feet by a fist full of hair. Hardly up to full height, he was quickly pushed backwards into the awaiting arms of someone bigger and stronger than he was. Lifting his head, Dean found he was being stared down by a petite woman. 

She had long blonde hair, and soft cheeks. Her youthful skin was held taught in a serious sort of look, but Dean could see the shadows of laugh lines around her mouth. Her eyes were a rich brown that he was sure would have played off the light if they didn’t have so much malice in them. She couldn’t have been older than 22. If it wasn’t for her cold hard gaze and foreboding expression, Dean would have assumed she was harmless. She stepped forward, causing her kitten heels to click again and made a downward motion with her hand. Without warning Dean was bent nearly double, his eyes now level with the 5’2 woman in front of him.

“The Righteous Man,” She dragged her fingers down Dean’s checks, coming to rest grasping his chin, “and the Boy King,” she tossed a look over her shoulder to where Sam was also being held up by a large form, “How could I not play with them? I’m dying to see if they live up to the hype.”

Despite that fact that she was clearly not talking to him – looking around the room, Dean couldn’t tell who she was talking too – he couldn’t help himself. He shook his chin out of her grasp and gave her his best bitch face, “Look lady, if you’re some kind of apocalypse end-gamer, I’ve got some bad news for you, we still aren’t interested!”

“Oh, you think this is so Michael can play dress up?” Her eyebrows raised as a sickening smile stretched across her face, “Oh no no! Now don’t get me wrong, the way you boys derailed the big plan was definitely not fun for anyone. But for the most part, we’ve moved on to bigger and better things.”

There was another rumble of laughter that set Dean’s teeth on edge. Looking around the room, Dean tried to get his bearings. Holding him upright was a broad man, with a disinterested face and a vice-like grip. Dean tried to pull himself free, but based on the complete lack of reaction from the man he was pulling against, he wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. The small woman was still standing in front of him, but she was now facing slightly away, talking seemingly to the rest of the room. _Probably monologuing like some cheesy supervillain._ Across the room stood Sam, arms pinned behind his back by a skinny guy in a suit. Sam towered over his captor, but despite how his shoulders jerked he couldn’t shake himself loose.

Even from across the room, Dean could see that Sam was roughed up pretty badly. Blood seemed to be coming from somewhere in his hairline, slicking a good portion of his hair back off his face. His shirt was torn and more blood seemed to be dripping off the hem. Dean was immediately filled with worry for his younger brother. _Look after Sammy_. He wanted nothing more than to get to Sam, but after a few fruitless attempts at freedom, he had to keep his eyes averted from his injured brother. Not being able to help was only going to drive him crazy.

Dean’s eyes continued their way around the room. It was huge. The ceiling seemed to be unrealistically far away and vaulted, being held up by clean white walls. Gold fixtures and large oil paintings of angelic battles and bible passages, hung in ornate frames, were aesthetically placed throughout, and everything was lit by a soft warm light that seemed to emanate from the room itself. Dean had been inside this room before – or at least one just like it. Back then it had been filled with burgers and beer, now there were long empty tables with blood stains and scuff marks on the floor. After everything with Michael and Lucifer, Dean honestly thought he would never see the beautiful room again. And he definitely wasn’t expecting it when he and Sam charged into what they thought was a dilapidated building.

Dean brought his attention back to the female angel standing in front of him. She had moved away from Dean and was now standing in the middle of the room, still talking. Four angels stood at attention, listening to her intently. They all stood ridged and tall, soldiers listening to their commanding officer. Dean had just finished counting them, when suddenly they all vanished. A wind picked up from where they had just been standing as four pairs of wings carried away their vessels. 

“What? The party over?”

Before he could blink, the woman rounded on him. She grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him forward, as her knee hiked up to make contact just below his ribs. Dean felt as the air was pushed out of his lungs and he toppled to the floor. It took him a minute to inhale properly, as he fought to keep his stomach contents down. Suddenly, the woman’s voice was in his ear, “Oh, I’m just getting started.”

A hand grabbed onto his hair for the second time and Dean was dragged back to his feet. Once at full height, he stood face to face with the disinterested man who held him before.

“Is this the part where things get a little more ’50 Shades of Gray’?” Dean was turned on the spot and then marched towards the long tables, “Because, you know, I’m flattered, but there are a lot of problems with that book…”

Unceremoniously, he was flung over the table. His chest hit the wood top hard, as his arms were kept pinned behind his back. Moments later, Sam was also tossed chest first onto the table. Both brothers were pinned down by respective angels, barely able to move an inch.

_Okay! Time for Plan B._

Dean took a deep breath and started to form a prayer in his mind.

_Hey Cas, you got your ears on? We might have miscalculated this one a bit..._

As Dean began, he raked his eyes around the room again – or at least around the now significantly smaller portion he could see. This time in search of something that might give Cas the upper hand.

_We are in Warner, South Dakota. The abandoned textile factory just outside of town. It’s angels, Cas._

Dean’s eyes continued to search for details to pass along and that’s when he saw it. The thing he had figured had to be there once he knew it wasn’t vampires. The part about this case that didn’t add up. The part that made his stomach turn. Sitting in the corner, tucked out of sight behind the table, were buckets of blood. Quickly Dean counted them. Twenty. Twenty, five-gallon plastic pails of fresh blood. Doing some quick math in his head, Dean figured that was about 60 peoples worth. The News reports only had 10 people missing. Dean could feel the panic starting to rise in his chest.

_Seriously man, if you could get your feathered ass down here, it would be greatly appreciated!_

“What the hell is going on here?” Cas’s gravelly voice cut through Dean’s panicked prayer. His body began to calm and the fear he had just felt was replaced by a sense of security. With a sharp exhale – that may or may not have been a small laugh – he dropped his forehead down on the table.

_Ha! We might just make it out of here alive._

“Hello Castiel.”

And just like that the bubble of hope popped. The same small woman who had been running the show all day was now out of Dean’s line of sight, out of his reach, and addressing Cas. The panic was back. To his left, Sam started squirming again. Lifting his chin, Dean turned his head just in time to see a hand press Sam’s face down hard. The resulting thud shook the table. Dean watched as Sam’s breathing slowly moved his hair out of the way of his face.

He had a larger cut that vanished into his hairline just above his right temple. His lip was split down the center and his spit was tinted red where it was collecting in the corners of his mouth. Sam looked up at the man who was pinning his head down out of the corner of his eye. He made one more attempt to shake free, when a fist came down hard across his cheek. Dean watched as Sam’s eyes went out of focus.

_And that’s a concussion for sure._

“Hey! I swear, you touch him again and I will shove that angel blade right up your…”

Dean’s voice got caught in his throat. His airways tightened and he felt like he was choking on his own tongue. The angel that had been practically sitting on top of him peeled him off the table and turned him so that he was facing into the middle of the room. Silently choking on nothing.

“Nakir, stop.” Cas made a panicked move towards Dean but seemed to catch himself mid step.

“What is wrong with you, Castiel?” There was disdain dripping of the voice that had earlier been sickly sweet, “You were chosen and you turned your back on us. For this? For them?” Nakir made a bewildered sort of sound in the back of her throat, “You vanish from heaven, going against orders, betraying your Garrison – and then you show up here because - why? Because one of them called for you? What are you? A lapdog? For shame, Castiel.”

With a flick of her hand, Dean could breathe again. He collapsed forward, only staying remotely upright because of the angel holding his arms behind his back. As he gasped for air, he could see Cas’s shoes move in his direction. But they were cut off by a pair of kitten heels.

“I don’t think so, Castiel.”

The brightness in the room shifted. What was already a well-lit room, was now painfully bright. Dean had to squint his eyes when he searched for its source, but it seemed to be coming from the walls themselves. It only lasted for a moment and as the light faded Dean was able to make out both faces of the angels standing in front of him. Nakir looked infinitely pleased with herself – like she has just hustled someone out of a lot of money – and Cas looked terrified.

“Nakirm what are you doing?” Cas’s voice shook as he spoke. His eyes darted all around the room. He was clearly seeing something Dean couldn’t, because when Dean followed his gaze all he saw was a blank white wall.

“What am I to do?” Nakir let out a short, high-pitched laugh that made the hair stand up on the back of Dean’s neck. “I’m doing what I have to! I’m doing what needs to be done! What are you doing, Castiel? Hmm? Playing pet?”

“What needs to be done? You’ve opened a slaughterhouse!”

Cas stood rooted to the spot. His eyes bounced from wall to wall, taking in all of the art and fixtures. Those blue irises even passed over Dean’s face once or twice, as he scanned the entirety of the room. After a few moments of silence, he locked eyes with Dean. The fear was still very visible, but the longer they stayed connected the more they seemed to show conviction of some kind. Dean had no idea what was going on, but he had a deep urge to hug Cas and reassure him.

Cas straightened up and finally broke his eye contact with Dean. He took a deep breath and patiently folded his hands behind his back, before turning to face Nakir. 

“What is the point of all of this?” His voice was calm and cold – much more angel-like than it had been for years.

“The point? You are not stupid Castiel. You know what this is! What the end goal to all of this is.”

“Yes, but why are you doing it? Why now? Who is giving the orders?”

“Orders? Do you really think after the stunt you pulled that orders are coming down the line?”

“So, it’s just you then?”

“For now.”

“So, what is the point? You alone will never be able to pull this off.”

Cas was standing perfectly still, staring Nakir down like a scolding parent. But the woman did not falter. Her chest puffed and her face twisted into anger.

“This is the future! This is our victory! This is how the world keeps spin—”

From out of nowhere there was a loud bang and a brilliant flash of light. Nakir was violently thrown back against the wall. Her eyes were closed and her face was twisted in pain as she screamed from where she seemed to be pinned. Dean toppled to his knees as his own captor was ripped away from him. Looking over his shoulder, Dean could see Sam slip off the table onto the floor, suddenly angel-less. All three angels were trapped between the hard surface of the wall and some invisible force. All around the room sigils that seemed to appear out of nowhere were glowing white hot. The ones trapped underneath angels were glowing bright enough to be seen through whomever obstructed them. All three angels had the same expression of pain on their faces. Pure, unadulterated, torturous pain. Their physical forms were twisted and bent out of shape. Dean could see where bones and muscles were being stretched and snapped in ways they should never be. But the part that was truly horrifying to witness was their wings.

Stretched out along the walls on either side of their contorted bodies were giant wings. Each set with their own shape and color,

and all of them were burning. Wings flexed upwards toward the ceiling as feathers singed off. Smoke was billowing around primary and secondary feathers, staining them in soot. Dean had never seen angel wings before – or at least never seen anything more than shadows – but seeing them like this felt wrong. It felt like he was watching art burn.

Suddenly, in quick succession, each angel let out a cry as light flared inside of their bodies. One by one, they dropped to the floor, eyes burnt out and bodies lifeless.

The silence that followed was defining. Dean looked towards Sam and saw that his expression looked exactly how he felt. A mixture of fear, confusion, horror and relief playing on his features. The two brothers stared at each other, but before either could speak there was a loud clanging sound.

Dean turned to find Cas teetering on the spot. His angle blade rolling across the floor, dripping blood from its tip. Without thought, Dean rushed forward and wrapped his arm around Cas’s shoulders, just as the angel went limp and pulled both of them to the ground.

At some point the water beating down on Dean’s neck had gone cold. Shaking himself out of his reminiscing, Dean turned off the water and reached out of the glass door. He blindly grabbed the towel off the sink and wrapped it around his waist. Correction - attempted to wrap it around his waist. _Crap._ Dean looked down at the pathetic excuse for a towel that was in his hands. He could see two options. The first was to leave it open in the back, leaving his ass exposed to the cold air of the motel room, or have a “sexy slit” on the side of his thigh that literally never stopped. Leaving the front exposed was not an option. Going for the latter, Dean grasped both ends of the towel over one hip. His fingers were stretched out and the only thing keeping the towel in place was the amount of pressure he was pushing down on it. Dean took a couple of test steps to see if the towel would stay. It seemed secure enough, as long as he was quick and Cas stayed asleep. Accepting the best of a bad situation, Dean finally stepped out of the shower.

The misty air of the bathroom had fogged up the mirror. Wiping it clean, Dean was able to look at his face again. His cheeks were slightly pink from being in the hot water for so long and his hair was slick back with water. He quickly ran his hands through it, sending water droplets all over the room. The cut above his eyebrow was now clean, free from the dirt and blood that had outlined it, but with the dirt all scrubbed out of his day-old-stubble the bruise on his jaw was much easier to see. He poked it a couple of times, each time making him wince more then he would have if he hadn’t been alone. He tried to figure out when he had gotten this bruise. Flipping through the mismatched memories of being flung around from a few days ago, he decided it was probably from when he landed face first on a rather ornate looking stool next to a golden harp. Double checking his towel, Dean turned to face the exit. He took a deep breath before putting his free hand on the doorknob.

With a sharp inhale, Dean braced himself for the horrendous door scraping sound, but when he yanked the door open the sound never came. _I thought heat and water expended wood?_ Swinging the door back and forth, Dean accepted this new turn of events with a soft hum and made his way out of the bathroom.

The main room felt cold compared to the nice little steam room Dean had created. Making long, silent strides, Dean made his way towards the bed. This is where he encountered his first hurdle of getting ready for bed.

Cas had moved since Dean had gotten in the shower. He had wiggled underneath the covers, yanked them over his shoulder and was holding them firmly underneath his chin. He was curled up on his side, in almost the center of the bed. And perfectly encircled by his knees and his elbows were the duffle bags.

Standing over the side of the bed, Dean evaluated the situation. The longer he stood there, the more issues he found. Both bags seemed to be pinned in such a way that moving them would disturb Cas. Cas’s bag was squished up near his legs, bent into a crescent shape without anything inside to keep its intended shape. Dean’s bag, which was still shaped like a duffle bag, was being hugged between duvet covered arms. There was literally no way to remove it without waking up Cas. Dean shifted his weight as the image of him reaching over the bed, sans clothes, only to have Cas wake up and see him, played out in his head.

Feeling embarrassed enough just thinking about how that would go, Dean tried a different tactic. He moved in really close to the side of the bed Cas was facing away from. His knees bumped against the starchy sheets as he positioned himself for his next move. He had learned and mastered this trick in his preteens. When Sam was old enough to stay up late watching cartoons, but still young enough to fall asleep before eleven. It had been years since Dean had attempted this and back then Sam had been sixteen with significantly less mass than Cas had. Mentally crossing his fingers, Dean put his knee on the mattress. He leaned down heavily, putting all of his weight on his one leg and stretched his arm towards the center of the bed. Just like he remembered, the mattress dipped. And just like Sam, Cas slowly and smoothly rolled away from the duffle bags.

_Now the hard part._

As quickly as he could, Dean sprung forward and caught the handle of his duffle. Snapping it back, he did his best not to touch Cas or shake the bed too much. Then he shifted his weight and jumped backwards. Landing softly on the carpeted floor, Dean stood motionless. He watched as Cas rocked slightly as the bed frame settled. He held his pose – duffle bag hanging from his wrist, towel pinned to his waist – and held his breath. Cas did not stir. With an audible sigh, Dean dropped his arm. The duffle bag bounced off the floor, the thud only slightly softened by the shitty wall to wall carpeting. Dean looked as Cas’s face as it scrunched up and the man rolled back towards the center of the bed. This time coming to rest completely on his stomach, forehead resting in the crook of his elbow. Cas exhaled sharply and became still again. Counting this as a win, Dean rummaged through his bag as quietly as he could, pulling out a t-shirt and a clean pair of boxers.

Once dressed and free of the ridiculous loin cloth, Dean walked up to the end of the bed. He paused.

_Shit._

Cas was again lying in the center of the bed. His black hair the only messy indicatore that he even had a head. His bare shoulders were poking out the top of the duvet, and his toes were poking out the bottom. Dean had yet to figure out how the two of them were going to fit in this god-forsaken bed. But Cas had asked him to stay and who was he to say no.

_Okay… deep breath. It’s the same as sharing a bed with Sam. Just crawl in, kick him to his side and go to sleep._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: description of injury, canon-typical violence, 
> 
> thanks for all of the kudos and love - it means a lot to this smol dyslexic girl who struggles to english <3


	3. !!!IMPORTANT NOTICE!!!

Hi Hello! Maureen here! 

SO 2019 we a bit of a year, and this story fell by the wayside! But fear not, i have not forgotten you.   
First i want to let you all know that i have basically completely rewritten the first 2 chapters - so if you've read this before Jan 2020, chapter 1 and 2 are different and should be re-read (same plot and general setting but there is more detail and new angst now)   
Second new content is coming! I start a grad program next week so im going to try and post a new chapter every 2 months (yes that is slow but i think i can keep to it because i will 100% use this to procrastinate)  
ANYWAY! i will update tags and repost chapters 1 and 2 with in the next 24 hours, and then once chapter 3 is done this little notice will be taken down and replaced 

Thanks for putting up with the delay and the overhaul! i hope you guys like the new stuff (personally i think its better but then again im bias so) 

<3 Mo


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